Day 8: Ebenezer, Sinde Village, and a Circle of Gratitude

Day 8 (July 1) began in Livingstone, where our group split up again to visit different schools and community spaces. My group started at Ebenezer Orphanage / Ebenezer School, where we spent the morning with younger learners.

Before beginning our activity, we peeked into a few classrooms. One space in particular stood out to me because two classrooms were connected, with an open area between them. The students were engaged and participating, which I loved seeing, but the sound carried so much between the rooms that it was hard to imagine trying to teach and learn in that environment every day.

From there, we went to the reading center, where students were being introduced to a new story. Each of us was paired with two learners, and I worked with two boys on Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I began by reading the story aloud and asking them what they thought might happen based on the pictures. Then they took turns reading the story out loud, alternating pages. After reading, they illustrated the story and wrote a short summary.

After the reading center, we went to the kitchen to help stir and serve nshima to the students. The students lined up to receive their portions, clapping and curtsying as they were served. A couple of preschoolers kept running back and forth from their classroom to give hugs, which was another of those small, sweet moments that I will cherish.

Usually, the students wash their own bowls, but our group took over that job for the day. It quickly became clear how busy that task was. There were not enough bowls for every student to have one at the same time, so as soon as one student finished, the bowl had to be washed quickly so it could be used by the next person in line.

After helping in the kitchen, we were asked to make new anchor charts for the school. I was assigned to create a poster comparing wild animals and domestic animals. As I worked, one of the workers watched over my shoulder, fascinated by the drawing process. He asked how I could draw so quickly and confidently. I told him the honest answer: practice.

He wanted to know what he should do if he practiced drawing for 40 minutes every day and how long it would take him to improve. I explained blind contour drawing and told him that I thought it was one of the best exercises for building observational drawing skills. I also told him that a full year of practicing 40 minutes a day would lead to exceptional growth. I appreciated that conversation because it gave me a chance to talk about drawing not as talent alone, but as a skill that grows through observation and steady practice.

Later in the morning, we traveled to what I believe was another Ebenezer School location, possibly for older learners. The classroom setting felt different from the younger students’ space earlier in the day, but the students were just as welcoming.

After our school visits, we returned to the hotel for lunch, where I tried crocodile skewers. I was not sure what to expect, but I really enjoyed them - one more opportunity to try something new while we were in Livingstone.

After lunch, we drove out to visit Sinde Village through the Children in the Wilderness program. Sinde Village is connected to Wilderness Safaris’ Toka Leya Camp and is made up of four smaller villages: Katiba, Lypwaya, Siatela, and Mulauli. Through Children in the Wilderness, students from the local Twabuka Primary School participate in an Eco-Club led by trained Eco-Mentors.

When we arrived, we were taught how to “knock” before entering the home of Senior Chief Musokotwane of the Leya and Tonga people. Instead of walking directly into the compound, we clapped our hands and called, “Odi, Odi,” a respectful way of asking permission to enter. Once we were welcomed in, we sat on mats, benches, and chairs while our hosts shared information about the village and their cultural practices.

One demonstration showed how women can walk long distances while balancing heavy water buckets on their heads, keeping their hands free to carry other items or care for a child. We were able to ask questions while the chief sat nearby observing.

Afterward, we watched the chief play a game in the dirt with his granddaughter. It looked similar to Mancala, but with more rows and a different rhythm to the play. It was one of my favorite moments of the visit because it felt relaxed and personal, a small glimpse of daily life they were willing to share with strangers.

After spending time at the chief’s home, we were invited to walk down the road to visit one of the family compounds in the village. Several children walked along with us, holding hands and staying close as we moved through the sandy paths. We were shown one of the homes, built with mud walls and a thatched roof, and were told that these structures can last around ten years.

Nearby, another house was being built, and we could see the wooden posts already set into the ground for the frame. Outside, chickens moved through the compound, laundry hung along the fence line, and we saw an outdoor latrine with a curtain for privacy. The visit gave us a closer look at the materials, routines, and practical design choices that shape homes there.

As we left, I kept noticing the chief’s presence. He seemed relaxed and approachable, but still carried a quiet authority. From the bus, I watched him talking with our driver and guide, and then he and his granddaughter waved as we pulled away. It felt like a fitting end to the visit. We had been welcomed in, invited to listen and ask questions, and sent off with a wave.

On our way out, we passed a group of boys walking together in a procession. Our driver shared that they were taking part in a coming-of-age tradition - just another reminder that we were only seeing small pieces of much larger cultural practices.

That night, our group reflection brought the day to an emotional close. Sabrina led us in an activity where we stood in a circle with our eyes closed while small groups stepped into the center. They were given prompts like “touch someone you have learned from” or “touch someone you now consider a friend.” It was quiet, simple, and unexpectedly powerful.

After more than a week of traveling, learning, and processing together, the gentle taps on our shoulders became a kind of wordless thank-you. The places we visited mattered deeply, but so did the relationships forming between the people traveling, learning, and processing together.

Day 7: Classrooms and Victoria Falls in Zambia

Day 7 began at Holy Cross in Livingstone, Zambia, where each of us was paired with a teacher for a classroom exchange. I was placed in a 12th-grade English classroom with a teacher named Nabita. Her lesson began with discussion questions about heroes: What makes someone a hero? Does a hero have to be famous? Are all heroes recognized?

From there, she introduced vocabulary words connected to the reading: diligent, lecturer, commitment, scholarship, sabbatical, and doctorate. The class had 36 learners and only 6 books, so the students divided into groups and shared. Watching them lean in together around the text was a reminder that learning does not always depend on having every resource we would want. It often depends on how teachers and students work with what they have.

One instructional practice that stood out to me across multiple countries was the consistent use of call-and-response. Teachers asked frequent questions, paused for students to fill in words, and kept the learners participating throughout the lecture portion of the lesson. Even in the older grades, students responded naturally and confidently. It is something I would love to bring back into my own classroom more intentionally.

After Nabita’s lesson, she invited me to teach an art lesson. I introduced the students to linear perspective and demonstrated both one-point and two-point perspective. They were attentive, engaged, and incredibly encouraging. At a few points, they surprised me by clapping during the lesson, which made the whole experience feel even more special.

As an art teacher, it meant a lot to share a drawing concept that is so familiar to me in a completely new setting. Linear perspective is something I teach every year, but this experience felt different. The students were incredibly attentive and responsive, and their enthusiasm surprised me in the best way. When they clapped during parts of the demonstration, it reminded me how powerful it can be to see a familiar lesson through new eyes. It made me think about how much energy, curiosity, and encouragement students can bring into a classroom when they are fully invited into the learning.

After Holy Cross, we visited David Livingstone High School. When we arrived, students welcomed us with music, drumming, and dance. They eventually invited us to join them, and once again, I was reminded that dance has been one of the fastest ways we have connected with people throughout this trip.

At the end of the performance, some of the students made hand gestures like they were sprinkling something and called out “Make it salty” or “Salt Sana.” At first, we did not understand what they meant. I thought they might have been teasing us a little about our dancing, like we needed to add more flavor. When I asked one of the faculty members, she explained that it was connected to a popular political slogan and that the students were praising us and wishing we could stay longer. That small moment turned into one of my favorite cultural exchanges of the day because it reminded me how much meaning can sit inside a phrase, a gesture, or a joke that you do not understand at first.

Later in the afternoon, we returned to Victoria Falls on the Zambia side. A small group of us did the Boiling Pot hike first. It was beautiful, but also a little unnerving when we passed several baboons on the trail. We gave them as much space as possible and were very aware that we were visitors in their home.

After the hike, I walked through the tourist market. That experience was overwhelming for me. The sellers were very persistent, and once I agreed to buy something, the process turned into more pressure to keep buying. I learned quickly that I needed to be clear and firm. Later, we stopped at another local market that felt very different. More local people were buying everyday items, and I purchased a woven basket piece that I plan to hang on my wall at home.

The rest of the afternoon was spent taking in Victoria Falls from different viewpoints. The mist, the sound, the rainbows, and the scale of the falls were hard to fully capture in pictures, but I did my best. There was a group of kids on a field trip who were excited to pose as well.

Later that night, we went back to the falls for one more unforgettable experience: the lunar rainbow. Because it was a full moon, the mist from Victoria Falls caught the moonlight, creating a rainbow in the dark. It felt unreal to stand there at night, hearing the falls, seeing the moonbow, and looking up at the stars.

Day 7 brought together so many different parts of this experience: classroom observation, teaching, student performance, cultural exchange, the Boiling Pot hike, local markets, and Victoria Falls by both daylight and moonlight. What stayed with me most was the way participation showed up again and again. It was built into Nabita’s lesson through call and response, present in the students’ performance and invitation to dance, and even part of the conversations that helped us understand phrases and gestures we might have misunderstood on our own. By the end of the night, standing near the falls under the full moon, I was thinking about how much of this program has been about paying attention, asking questions, and being willing to join in.

Day 6: Chobe, Lupani, and Lessons in Conservation

Day 6 started in the dark, which felt fitting because we were headed into a day that we never saw coming. We left early for a safari drive through Chobe National Park with our driver, Moses, who quickly became one of the highlights of the morning. He was knowledgeable, funny, and clearly enjoyed sharing the park with us.

As the sun rose, Chobe slowly came into view. Moses stopped near elephant bones and explained that elephants are known to return to the remains of their dead. It was a reminder that the animals we were seeing were not just “wildlife” to check off a list. They are part of complex social systems, family structures, and landscapes that people here are working hard to protect.

During the drive, we saw a lilac-breasted roller, lions, monkeys, impalas, kudu, giraffes, hippos, and Cape buffalo. Some animals were close enough for us to study their movement and behavior, while others appeared in the distance, partly hidden by brush or morning light. The sunrise, the dust, the quiet, and Moses’s explanations made the experience feel less like sightseeing and much bigger than a list of animals we had seen.

After the safari, we visited Lupani Primary School and spent time with students connected to Children in the Wilderness, a program that uses environmental education and leadership development to help young people understand conservation and their role in protecting their natural heritage.

At Lupani, we were welcomed with a student dance performance, visited a classroom, and observed an Eco-Club lesson outside. The lesson focused on photosynthesis, giving students a chance to connect science with the plants and environment around them. What stood out most, though, was the students themselves. They were curious, energetic, and eager to participate.

One of my favorite moments of the day came when I drew a blind-contour portrait of a student. I loved that this small drawing exercise created an immediate connection. A few curious students huddled around to watch, and their eager energy was contagious. 

Lupani made me think about how education moves beyond the classroom walls. Conservation was not being taught as an abstract science topic. It was connected to community, responsibility, leadership, and the future. Learning is more meaningful when students can see how it connects to the world around them.

After leaving Lupani, we crossed into Zambia and made our way to Livingstone, where we checked into the Zambezi Waterfront. It had been a full day: sunrise in Chobe, wildlife in its own environment, students learning under trees, and a reminder that education and conservation are deeply connected.

Day 6 was another day that was full from beginning to end. It gave me stories, images, and questions I will carry back into my classroom. It reminded me that teaching is not just about content. It is about helping students pay attention, care deeply, and understand that they are part of something larger than themselves.